


It's beginning to look a lot like Gyftmas

by Mercyisnotasignofweakness, Shivra



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Christmas, Daddy Sans, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Kidfic, Magical human/monster pregnancy because why not, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Pregnant ladies being awesome, Reconnecting with family, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, War Veteran Papyrus, War injuries (mild - barely even described)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercyisnotasignofweakness/pseuds/Mercyisnotasignofweakness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivra/pseuds/Shivra
Summary: It's Christmas Eve. Sans is getting ready to celebrate the holiday with his new family when his old one rings the doorbell.





	

The snow falls heavily outside the window, the large puffy flakes dancing around carelessly in their descent. It’s a familiar sight, one that induces a sort of calm in him that he didn’t know he needed today. His soul is in a state of constant unease, always buzzing with magic like it’s waiting for something to go wrong. But, of all days, this is the last one on which he wants to deal with a panic attack. 

“Uncle Sans! Come  _ on _ !” Small hands tighten around his fingers as the small kid at his side tries to physically pull him out of his thoughts. It works. He rips his eyelights from the snow outside and instead turns them towards his little companion. “The tree won’t decorate itself!” she reminds him.

He huffs a quiet laugh as he ruffles the kid’s short, red hair with his free hand. Regan doesn’t even bother to feign her usual annoyance, instead doubling her efforts to drag him with her down the hall. “‘kay, ‘kay kid, I’m comin’,” he promises. He lets her drag him into the living room where a large pine tree is taking up a third of the space. From the kitchen he hears a burst of loud laughter coming from Undyne. He feels himself tense up for a second before he forces himself to relax. Maria has it covered, he’s sure. She’s strong-willed and can handle Undyne,  _ even _ in a kitchen. 

They have barely even broken out the tinsel and the light chain before the doorbell chimes. They both stop and look toward the door, but before Sans can drop the fresh-out-of-the-box decorations in his hands to go answer it, Undyne comes flying out of the kitchen. 

“I got it,” she says hurriedly. “Just keep going.” She continues down the hall after sending her daughter a huge grin and giving her a thumbs up. Not even a second after she disappears behind a corner there’s a distinctive sound of the handle being pushed down and the echoing scrape of wood on wood from the front door opening. 

The following second of silence  _ really _ gets to him. It makes his Soul stutter in his chest and his hands shake where they’re trying to fasten the light chain to the delicate branches on the tree. He’s dropping the chain at his feet just as the sound of Undyne’s angry yell fills the whole house.

“YOU!!! YOU’VE GOT  _ SOME NERVE  _ SHOWING UP HERE!!!”

He can faintly hear a soul-wrenchingly familiar voice dwarfed beneath Undyne’s bellowing, and, before he can think too much about it, his magic flares and he finds himself between the angry fish woman at the door…

And his brother.

Sans’ eyes swiftly rake their way up his coat to latch onto Papyrus’ rigid expression. His sudden appearance and scrutiny, however, are not enough to dissuade Undyne. 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE!?” she demands to know, her voice carrying fast and loud through the street. 

“Shut up.” Sans’ voice is tight, and he’s sure he’s doing a damn good job of mirroring the stony mask Papyrus is wearing as a face, even though it feels like he’s slowly shaking apart.

He can feel Undyne’s stare boring into the back of his skull. “I don’t care  _ what  _ his LV is. I’ll  _ make  _ his sorry ass leave.” There’s a crack of a fist forcefully hitting a palm just behind him. “ _ And I’ll enjoy doing it. _ ”

“I invited him,” he tells her before Undyne can say another word, and in response he can hear her weight shift behind him in confusion. “Get the hell inside before the neighbors call the cops again. I got this.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Undyne places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “ _ Fine. _ But if I hear shit out here from YOU-” Sans can hear the air above him move as she gestures sharply, “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

The door slams shut behind him, leaving the two skeletons in silence punctuated only by the sounds of Undyne’s frustrated stomping from inside and the droll hum of distant vehicles.

The quiet drags on for a whole two minutes as the two quietly gauge each other. Sans is sure he doesn’t present a very imposing front in his woolen socks, ugly holiday sweater and an absurdly fluffy Santa hat, but he’d like to think that his tightly crossed arms and closed-off expression say everything his laughable attire tries to mock.

Meanwhile, Papyrus is dressed to a T, from his primly tailored tweed vest beneath the fitted wool coat down to his expensive black penny loafers. That’s when he sees it. A glinting pin partially hidden beneath the right lapel of his coat, bearing one of the many iconic symbols of the Humans’ military. His eyes narrow as his eyelights dart back up to his brother’s face.

“You bastard.” The words fall like acid from his mouth. “You fucking did it, didn’t you?” Papyrus says nothing, but his back straightens a bit, like he is aware of the storm brewing in Sans’ chest. 

“It’s so typically  _ you, _ ” he continues. “ _ The Great Papyrus, _ ” he spits out the words with dripping sarcasm, “always so damn  _ dramatic.” _

His brother’s cool facade finally cracks as Sans mocks his old title. “I did what I thought was  _ right _ , Sans!” 

The shorter skeleton’s hands fly into the air. “Yeah and conveniently enough, what was “right” was also the decision that crushed the people that cared about you!”

It’s apparently Papyrus’ turn to cross his arms. “If you cared about me, shouldn’t you have supported my decision instead of abandoning me like you did, without even letting me explain?”

“How could I possibly support you in that Paps? You were trying to kill yourself!” 

“That is absurd!” His brother seems to physically recoil from the statement, his face immediately contorting into disgust. “Of course I wasn’t!”

“Oh yeah?” Sans raises an angry browbone. “Well how do you explain deserting the Royal Guard and abandoning not only your  _ family _ but your own kind as well to go fight for the very people trying to turn us into lab rats and weapons, then?” He turns his palms up, flashing a scornful expression. “Joining the Human military... Gee, that actually sounds like the textbook definition, doesn’t it? You gave them  _ exactly _ what they wanted,  _ despite _ the fuckton of warnings you got! The King himself  _ forbid _ you to go, you idiot! Do you have any idea how difficult it was to convince him to not put a price on your head for committing treason against the Royal Family? Asgore wasn’t exactly  _ talkative _ back then.” 

“I didn’t ask you to do anything,” Papyrus counters with an air of cold derision. “I would have handled Asgore myself eventually.” 

“Uh huh,” Sans returns, unimpressed. “Would that be before or after you were thrown in jail for treason?”

“It would have been better than making them believe I had gone insane!” Papyrus says with a heavy dose of exasperation.

“You  _ were _ insane! You would rather die fighting someone else's war than deal with the consequences of the crap you did in the Underground. Even Undyne did it.  _ Undyne _ , Paps! She was down for  _ weeks _ fighting her own damn Soul, and you just ran off to go kill even more people because you were too scared!”

Something dark passes over his brother’s expression for a moment as Sans’ barbs sink in.

“Don’t talk as if you know what that’s like!” Papyrus snaps, his voice sharp and whiplike. “You can insult my choices, my absence, and my career, but do not,  _ do not _ ,” he pauses, his glare digging into Sans, “for one moment think you can understand what that is like, or what the thought of a new world order meant for monsters like me. I know what your LV is, and I refuse to allow you to trivialize my position when I left or what I felt at that time.”

Sans can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Well you know what, you f-”

The door is ripped open behind him. Sans doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Maria. The aura of  _ pissed off _ radiating from her is painfully familiar to him by now. Pregnant women are  _ scary _ . 

“Enough!” Maria barks. Sans curls a bit under her tone, and rushes to move aside so she can step outside, her enormous belly carving a way for her easily. “Inside, right now!” 

“Hun, you really shouldn’t be outside in this wea-” 

_ “Now,  _ Sans!” Maria growls. Sans just sighs, knowing that it’s no use fighting her on the matter when she’s in a mood. 

“Ok baby, but you gotta go in with me. Can’t have you two getting sick on me now,” he says. His hand fits almost too well on the curve of her baby bump and he strokes it lovingly, feeling their unborn child shift. “You don’t have a coat on.”

Her face softens a bit, but only for a moment. When she looks up at Papyrus her expression hardens again. “You,” she barks. The way Papyrus snaps to attention instantly is hilarious. Sans has to bite his teeth together to keep himself from laughing out loud. “You can come in but only if you promise to be nice! I won’t have people shouting in my home. It’s Christmas and we don’t yell at each other in this family!” 

“Of course,” Papyrus is quick to say. “I apologize ma'am. It wasn’t my intention to ruin your day.” Maria huffs a little, but Sans can see how his brother’s ass-kissing behavior is slowly soothing her anger.

“Good.” She spins around and waddles back inside, one hand pressed to the small of her back to help support the weight of the bump weighing her down. Sans hurries after her and offers her a hand so she can walk easier. She has been on her feet for too long already and she needs a break. He curses himself a little for losing his head like that and not keeping an eye on her. She never sits down herself, especially not on a day like this.

“Hun, you should sit down,” he says softly. Experience has taught him that he can’t be anything but gentle with her when she gets in this mood. Hormones are a bitch and if he pushes too hard, he’s going to have a crying lady on his hands. The last thing he wants today is to make his darling cry. 

“I will sit down when you stop shouting.”

“He started it,” Sans mutters over the click of the front door closing.

“Technically, you did,” comes the equally cowed reply from behind. Papyrus has followed them inside. Sans throws a glare over his shoulder, but a slap to his hand makes him turn his attention to Maria instead. 

“I swear, I will have this baby  _ on top of you both _ if you don’t stop stressing me out,” she threatens. Sans recognizes the worry on her face when she looks at him from the corner of her eye. The heat in her voice does a good job of hiding it, but it’s all it is. A cover. She’s stopping them before Sans gets himself worked into a situation he can’t get out of, just like he asked her to do years back before they got married. She promised to have his back just like he promised to always have hers.

“You gotta keep our princess safe in there for at least a month more hun,” he says before kissing her hand with a smile. “I’m still not done with the nursery.” 

“ _ Prince _ ,” she corrects him, but she squeezes his hand and a small smile lights up on her face. “And he’s not going to wait for his daddy go stop being lazy. This baby is going to come some day, whether you’re ready for him or not.”

“No  _ she’s  _ not,” Sans says, grinning at the eye roll Maria does, before he rubs the bump again. “We have a deal, right baby? You’re gonna wait for me to finish your awesome castle.” They grin at each other stupidly. 

“You’re not of the hook yet,” she warns him when they reach the living room, but a lot of the previous heat has left her voice. 

“Sans!” Regan calls in frustration when she sees them entering. She’s still trying to battle the tree and the long strings of tinsel. Her cute little tongue is poking out the side of her mouth and she’s standing on her toes to reach a branch that is obviously way out of her reach.

“Hang on champ, I’m comin’,” Sans says quickly. He lets go of Maria’s hand slowly and rushes to Regan’s side. The kid weighs almost nothing, so it’s easy for him to grab her under the arms and lift her up so she can throw the tinsel over the top branches. It lands in a huge mess they will have to fix later, but Regan still huffs with satisfaction, letting Sans know she’s done. When she has let go of it all, Sans brings her to Maria before putting her down on the floor again. 

“Thanks! I almost had it this time. Did you see, uncle Sans?” 

“Sure did kiddo. Next year you’re gonna do it without me for sure,” Sans promises. He ruffles the kid’s hair again and finally gets the angry glare from her. 

“Come on Regan, I need your help in the kitchen,” Maria says. “Your uncle needs to talk with his brother.” Regan rolls her eyes and sighs deeply. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” she breathes deeply, sounding and looking very like the taller of her two mothers for a few moments with her obvious frustration at the string of obstruction towards her decorating goals. 

Maria fixes them both with a glare. “I’m making hot cocoa for us, and you two,” she pauses, her narrowed brown eyes darting between them, “behave yourselves.”

“Promise hun,” Sans says quickly, and he can hear a quiet “ma’am” from his brother’s direction. He hurries to kiss her cheek before she’s pulled into the kitchen by a child suddenly much more eager to help after the mention of hot cocoa. When the sound of conversation starts up in the kitchen, Sans turns around. 

Papyrus is standing next to the couch not far from the tree and seems occupied with taking in all the details of the room. His eyes sweep over everything, every decoration and candle. He lingers a bit on the stockings hanging next to the television, but soon looks away again. When he becomes aware of Sans looking at him he straightens a bit, like he’s expecting the shouting to resume. 

That sight alone makes Sans feel so unbelievably tired. 

“Just relax Paps,” he says. “‘m not gonna bite your head off. Lady’s orders.” 

“She’s…” Papyrus’ hesitation makes bile rise in Sans’ throat. He’s not ready to have that discussion with his brother yet. 

“Hormonal,” he hurries to say, leaving no room for Papyrus to finish his thought. “Being pregnant does things to women. It’s better to just do what she says so she doesn't exhaust herself. She can’t handle too much stress in her condition.” He’s rambling, he’s well aware of it, but somehow it feels easier to handle the burn of embarrassment that follows than the eventual judgement from Papyrus.

“Sit down, Pap.” Sans gestures to the couch and walks over to make himself comfortable in the armchair. 

He doesn’t miss the momentary delay before Papyrus finally moves or the stiffness in his brother’s posture as the other monster moves to take a seat on the furthest side of the couch from him. Even when he’s settled, he doesn’t make any move to relax, instead sitting upright without his back even brushing against the rear of the upholstery. 

The soft  _ tick tick tick _ from the nearby clock fills the space between them. The soft clicks are almost deafening. Sans’ only consolation is that his brother looks just as physically uncomfortable about this whole situation as he feels, what with his hands clasped almost painfully tight over his lap. The longer the moment stretches out, the worse the atmosphere seems to become for both of them. It’s Sans who breaks the quiet first, and the sound of his own voice is jarring, even to him.

“So… uh. You came.” It’s not quite an olive branch, but he figures starting over might be the best route to take.

“Yes.” There’s a shorter but no less uncomfortable few seconds of silence between them before Papyrus continues uncertainly.

“Your wife is pregnant.” It’s almost a question.

“You’re pretty observant, huh?” One Sans still doesn’t want to answer.

Papyrus apparently decides to ignore the pointed jab. “You didn’t mention that in your invitation.”

“Well, I figured since you didn’t give a crap last time I mentioned her, you wouldn’t care this time either.” His voice holds a bit more bite in it than he’d intended. He clearly remembers the moment he sent the letter with the invitation for their mating with the meager hope it would reach its intended recipient.

Sans hit a nerve there. Papyrus’ expression tightens once more. “I wasn’t able to come to the mating because I was in the middle of an overseas mission-”

An old disappointment ignites inside him. It burns hotter than the anger simmering in his Soul and it’s almost unbearable how much he wants to just cry because his worst fears have just been confirmed. Trying very hard to keep his voice down to a harsh whisper so Maria can’t hear him in the kitchen, Sans hisses, “So you did fucking get it. I goddamn knew it!” He cuts off the reply Papyrus is about to give with a sharp gesture. 

“Save it. I don’t want your excuses,” he says. After a short pause where he fails to control the emotions battling inside him, he turns to Papyrus again. “You could at least have said you couldn’t make it. We waited for you but you never fucking showed.”

“I was going to but-” 

“But  _ what _ , asshole?”

Papyrus growls and pins Sans with a glare. “ _ Listen _ .” Sans clenches his fists but shuts up. “I was going to respond, but the day after I received your message I suffered an... injury.” He leans down and tugs at the hem of his left pant leg for emphasis. Beneath the material, Sans sees the shine of something that is definitely  _ not _ bone before he lets it drop back down. Sans’ face morphs from angry to horrified in the same second it takes his eyelights to vanish. 

“Many things happened in a short time, and when I actually had the chance to reply, it would have been too late to make any difference.” Papyrus pauses, like he senses Sans is too caught in his own incredulity to speak. When he continues after a moment, his voice is a bit lower. “I’m not the same monster that left home six years ago, Sans.”

“I’m…” He can’t find anything to say. His thoughts have come to a harsh stop and the gears in his mind are clicking, trying to find a way to move again. “I mean…  _ Fuck  _ Pap.” He rips his gaze from the leg and looks up at his brother. He finds an expression there he can’t quite recognize. “Why didn’t you come home?” His voice breaks, just like it feels like his Soul is doing. His brother lost his damn  _ leg _ and he still didn’t come back? “Do you really hate me that much?” It’s low and weak and too full of the bruised love he, despite his many attempts at banishing it, still has for his brother. 

Papyrus half-shrugs, unable to look up, and the slight lift of that one shoulder almost makes the tears he’s holding off spill over. His eyelights are sticking to his hands, watching his fingers clench around each other. “I didn’t think you would care,” he answers, but he shakes his head and corrects himself moments later. “No, I didn’t think I  _ deserved _ your care. I knew you would drop everything for me if I asked for it. That’s the monster you are. Family before anything else.” A sad smile twitches on his face, but it dies before he can even look up at the stockings again. Sans remembers when there were only two next to the television, and one of them held Papyrus’ name.

“Contrary to what you might believe, and my behavior earlier, I  _ have _ realized I made a mistake, leaving like I did.” Sans can see how his brother is struggling with his honesty and the conflict on his face is new and terrifying. This isn’t the Papyrus he remembers. This isn’t the brother he was forced to give up on years ago to start living his own life. 

“I was foolish, and cowardly. Even more so because I left without at least giving you the chance to say goodbye,” Papyrus continues. “I was afraid of what you might say. Afraid that you might actually convince me it was a bad idea. While I was recovering, I realized that I had been close to death. I realized that, had the medics not been as quick to find a healer for me as they were, I would have left you with those horrible words as the last I ever spoke to you. It was…” He breathes deeply, like he’s collecting his courage, and finally looks up. “It was difficult to admit. During that time a lot of things were difficult, but that is etched into my memory as the worst. I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I could never find a good way to do it. I eventually just decided that it was easier to let your life continue without more disturbance from me. My absence meant your happiness would continue and even though it was not what I wanted, I knew it wasn’t worth making you miserable again just because I wanted to be selfish. I could at least give you that, if nothing else.” 

“You still showed up,” he says, lacking anything better. He doesn’t know what to do with all these confessions. 

“I did,” Papyrus says. A sad smile brightens his expression a bit. “I never said I wasn’t selfish. I am. Very much so. I thought that, since you invited me, I could allow myself to be. You reached out first, after all.” It’s obvious that he’s prompting Sans to explain, but Sans still doesn't know what to say. The truth is too close to the topic of Maria and that only leads to the judgement from his brother he can’t quite handle facing yet. 

But… Wasn’t that the reason he invited Papyrus in the first place? To make one last attempt to make his family whole again? 

“Heh.” His laugh is flat. His voice is fragile and he feels like he’s about to shake right out of the ugly sweater warming his upper body. Here goes nothing. 

“So, I’m gonna be a dad.” The words hang in the air between them for a while. Sans lets Papyrus absorb them. 

“Is it…” Papyrus is obviously struggling with finding the right words, and he shifts on the couch, like a new position will somehow help him find the right way of asking his question. “Will the child be human or monster?” 

There it is. The big question. Is he  _ really _ the dad? The question so many have asked before and the reason judgement has become his worst nightmare. 

Sans shrugs. “Lil’ of both I think,” he answers like so many times before, but for some reason this time it feels more final. Maybe that’s why he’s suddenly feeling the desire to be honest. “I hope they’re gonna look like her,” he admits. When Papyrus lifts a brow bone at him, Sans shrugs again. “Easier that way. Less complications for her and the kid.” 

He lets the rest of his words die on his tongue. Lets the worry in them stay inside him. His brother don’t need to know how worried he is that the kid is going to look like them. How worried he is that Maria will get hurt giving birth to their child because she’s not built for a monster. That the kid will have to deal with the reactions that comes with being a skeleton monster. Sans remembers struggling through his first Halloween too well. He never wishes for his kid to experience how cruel humans can be without even meaning to. To them it’s all just a joke, but not to him. Never to him. 

“How-” 

“Doctors are real magicians,” Sans cuts him off, already knowing what question he’s asking. He is so not feeling up to explaining to his brother how the hell he managed to make a human pregnant. That’s the version of the birds and the bees he didn’t sign up for when becoming Papyrus’ guardian all those years ago. 

The silence returns, bringing with it the ticking of the clock. Sans doesn’t know what’s going on in his brother’s head right now. He hasn’t been able to read him since the guy was a baby bones. Somewhere along the way Papyrus learned how to hide himself away. Sans misses the time where he could take one look at his face and know what was wrong instantly. 

“I’m happy for you.” Sans’ head snaps up. Papyrus is smiling and looking at him with an aura of understanding. “I must admit, finding out she is human was a surprise. The way you talked about them made me believe you hated humans. But whatever reaction you are expecting from me won’t come. I won’t judge your decisions. They are yours and I have no right to question them.” 

It feels a little bit like a slap to the face, because that’s exactly what Sans did back before Papyrus vanished, wasn’t it? Still, the surge of relief feels like the breath of fresh air he has been craving for so long. It’s the olive branch he had hoped for and that alone makes a new burst of fear appear in his Soul. He’s not sure he can trust everything to just be perfect and good. He’s not naive enough to do that. 

He doesn’t get to say anything in reply, because Regan comes rushing out of the kitchen, carrying a plate full of the cookies she made with Maria and Alphys earlier. The three ladies follow soon after, although much slower than the kid. Alphys is carrying a tray with cups and Undyne is giving Maria an arm to support herself on. 

Sans stands and goes to Maria. Undyne and him trade places easily and he guides Maria to his armchair. Once she’s comfortable Sans takes a seat on the footrest next to her. She lifts an eyebrow at him when he hands her a cup from Alphys and he gives her a smile to let her know he’s ok. 

Regan, sitting nestled in Alphys’ lap, starts talking and all of a sudden it seems like the mood it the room shifts. The smile is easier to find for Sans as he listens to her and he finds himself longing for the day where his own kid will tell equally crazy and untrue stories like these. It’s easy to see the love shining in both Undyne and Alphys’ eyes as they watch her, and Sans wonders if he will look like that too in a few months. 

He hopes he will. 

* * *

It’s readily apparent to Papyrus that someone has instructed Alphys and Undyne to be civil to him, as shown by the forcedly cordial treatment he receives as he’s formally introduced to Regan and Maria. After they get settled, they all begin to speak about their recent lives over cookies and hot chocolate. They sit that way for about an hour, and as the minutes tick by, he forces himself to at least  _ pretend _ to appear relaxed on the couch. He crosses his ankles, leans back a little, and lets his eyelights flick between the speakers.

When the conversation inevitably turns towards him, he talks evenly about the simplistic but comfortable lifestyle he lives on a military base just over a hundred miles away. When he satirically sums up his job as a drill instructor with “I yell at humans for a living”, he even nets a loud guffaw from Undyne. It feels better than it should to make her laugh again after such a long time. 

Once the chatter dies down, Regan is quick to fill in the first round of quiet with a boisterous “TREE. DECORATE. NOW.” from where she’s playing with the ribbon-clad, low-hanging branches of the young pinetree. It takes no more than the child’s insistence for absolutely everyone to rearrange themselves to accommodate her. Even Maria moves from the armchair, as it’s dangerously close to the tree and the animated little worker who is trying, once again, to drag Sans to finish the job he had, according to her, been trying to get out of all day.

Alphys and Undyne take up the floor on the opposite side of the room, giggling and fiddling together with a tablet that starts playing what he suspects is Japanese holiday music. He can’t understand the lyrics, so it’s an educated guess. In this way, the only human in the room ends up next to Papyrus on the couch.

The two of them sit in semi-comfortable silence a foot and a half apart for a few minutes, both content to watch the antics of the others in the room, before she breaks the silence between them.

“It means a lot to him that you’re here, you know,” Maria says quietly by his side on the couch, the words going no further than his hearing.

Papyrus doesn’t answer, instead pretending to be very invested in watching his brother and Regan decorate. Every time Sans accidentally over-bends one of the wire hooks the ornaments would be hanging off of, little Regan punches him in the side with a tiny, scaled fist.

“He won’t say it of course, but I’m sure you’re aware of how stubborn he is.”

Regan holds up the latest failure for Sans to see, trying to shove both ornament and mangled hook in his face despite her chubby arms hardly reaching the halfway mark on his chest. “See,” she complains at him, “they won’t fit now! If you keep bending them too much, they’ll break!”

“You look exactly how he said you would, too,” she says over Sans’ apologies to the child.

“And how is that?” He finally tears his eyes from the almost cloyingly domestic scene to look down at his brother’s wife. Even slouching and nestled comfortably against her back support pillow, her eyes still hold an intensity that surprises him.

She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink, her eyes drifting to Sans, who’s sitting on the floor next to Regan. “The basics. That you were tall, thinner than him. He always talked about your smile. Said you could light up an entire room easily.” 

Her eyebrows pulls together before she keeps going, making a small wrinkle appear between them. “He said you looked troubled. Always trying to appear surer than you were. That you looked at everything like you were scared of it. I can see what he meant.” She looks at him again shortly. “You look like you worry a lot.” Her gaze flickers away and she takes another sip of cocoa. “It must be hard being alone all the time.” 

The final, unexpected words hammer into him, but instead of flinching, he only tightens the clasp of his hands upon his lap. Maria either doesn’t notice or kindly decides to ignore the display.

“I guess I’m trying to say that I’m happy you came, too. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“Your hospitality and generosity are greatly appreciated, ma’am,” he manages in response, unsure of what else to say.

She snorts in a very unladylike way, but she’s smiling when she looks back up at him. “My name is Maria. No need to be so formal. After all, we’re-”

He doesn’t hear the word, doesn’t  _ want _ to hear the word. He actually  _ does _ flinch this time as the muted term stabs spears of guilt into his soul. He looks everywhere but the human - Maria, his brother’s wife, pregnant with his child - taking in, for a second time, the gaudy holiday decor on every shelf, every wall and every surface. They glaze over the stockings hanging above Undyne and Alphys, busy laying on their backs with the tablet held above them. And finally, they come to rest on Sans. Sans, who seems genuinely happy in his gaudy, comfortable getup. Sans, whose patient smile stretches wide for an adorable child who’s exasperatedly showing him the right way to bend both ends of a wire hook.

His chest tightens.

_ He could have had this. He could have had all of this, if he hadn’t left. _

That thought is too much for him.

Papyrus excuses himself, muttering that he forgot something in the car, and long strides swiftly carry him from the warmth and easy camaraderie that everyone else seems to share. He doesn’t stop to gauge any reactions to his sudden departure, but before he’s even closed the door, he can easily hear a shrill “YOU’RE FIRED” from Regan as he steps out onto the porch.

When he’s halfway across the snowy lawn, the door opens and clicks shut a second time, and Papyrus can  _ feel _ the weight of the eyes on his back as he makes the rest of his way across the haphazardly shovelled path through the front yard to his rental car. What he’s looking for is in the front passenger’s seat, right where he left it, but he makes a show of looking for something anyway. He needs time to breathe and ground himself, but the bare few moments he buys for himself with the thinly veiled ruse don’t last as long as he’d hoped. No matter how terrifying this whole scenario is for him, he’s going to get no real respite with Sans boring holes into his splintered pride from the porch. For, of course, it’s Sans. No one else in that household - perhaps barring Maria - would have cared if he hadn’t returned.

But when he does, holding a delicately-wrapped package under one arm, Sans has to quickly hide his grudging surprise, but not so quickly that Papyrus misses it. It stings.

“You thought I was going to run off.” Papyrus words it as a statement, seeing right through him.

“To be fair, it wouldn’t have been the first time.” Sans admits.

“I didn’t run,” Papyrus corrects smoothly, “I left.”

“There’s a difference?” He knows Sans well enough to pick out a spark of the earlier anger stirring in his expression.

“There is,” he says quietly. “One implies that I was unhappy where I was, and I was not. Listen, please,” he continues with a weary sigh, one hand up to halt the inevitable protest for just a few moments longer. “Despite the invitation, I understand that this is sudden for both of us and that we’re still…” He struggles with the words before he gives up and finishes with a shrug. “The last thing I came here to do was ruin a holiday with your… family.” The strain on the word is almost painful as he excludes himself on purpose.

“This was too much, I suppose,” he continues, his eyelights catching on a row of icicle lights hanging down from the roof of the house. His free hand comes up to lightly finger the back of his neck vertebrae sheepishly. It’s a habit he’s picked up from the many humans he’s met over the last few years. “I thought… well. I didn’t think much further than getting here, honestly.” 

After a brief pause, he holds the present out towards Sans, a peace offering of some sort. His Soul squeezes tightly in his chest, but he fights the urge to run and hide that suddenly appears. 

He lets the unvoiced option as well as the package dangle in the air between them for a handful of seconds, trying to get a read on Sans’ expression. The shorter skeleton has his eyelights on the gift and hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, and Papyrus watches as his brother’s face rapidly cycles through a number of emotions: blank and confused, a tic of understanding, and then something creased and pained. But finally, just as Papyrus is beginning to lose what remains of his nerves, Sans seems to settle on something akin to stubbornness and their eye sockets meet again. 

“You can put your damn present under the tree yourself, you lazybones.” The words hold no sting, and a careful smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he says, unable to stop himself from returning the smile, but the tightness in his chest returns unexpectedly. He takes a step towards the door, almost passing his brother, but stops when he finds himself unable to. “Sans,” he begins again, but then falters, clicking his teeth shut on everything he’d wanted to say.

He hunches forlornly just below the first step up the porch with a layer of fresh snowflakes gathering on his black jacket. He silently cradles the meticulously-wrapped package against his chest, his expression open and incredibly fragile with the heavy weight of years etched into it. He’s been around the world, seen countless things and taken part in countless more, both cruel and good, but what did all of that even mean at the end of the day, knowing that he was very much alone? How can he possibly find the words to tell Sans how much he’d missed him in the time they’d been apart? How sorry he is? How much he has regretted going?

As it turns out, he doesn’t need to.

“Holy shit, bro,” Sans says, his voice cracking. “Shit, come- come here, Paps.” Sans’ hands come out of the safety of his pockets to spread wide, offering a hug.

He doesn’t hesitate.

It feels all too natural when his arms close around Sans’ body and he’s dragged into a tight embrace. It’s so familiar and it _hurts_ because he missed this _so much_. His safe haven, the place nothing could touch him and he’s finally _back_. It’s everything he’d thought he’d missed and more.

“You’re actually fuckin’ here.” Sans’ words, thick with emotion and disbelief, tickle against the side of Papyrus’ neck. The artificial inches Sans gains from standing on the high ground of the porch places them both at an almost even height.

Papyrus is too busy trying to preserve this moment in his head to speak. The warmth from his brother’s embrace is enveloping and comforting, mentally dragging him back to a time when they were both much younger and had simpler, albeit more immediate dangers to worry about. But the moment, like all others before it, comes to a sooner end than he’d have liked as the two eventually draw apart.

On top of that, he feels the chill of fresh tears on his face that had escaped sometime in the last minute. As he moves to wipe them off with the base of a sleeve, he notices the motion being mirrored by his brother out of the corner of an eyesocket.

“It’s just- I’m really… Thank you,” he says, trying to force anything, stumbling or not, out through his teeth. 

Sans rubs his hand over his eyes, quickly drying the other tear track away. “All I really wanted was to give my kid a chance to get to know their uncle. Knew it wouldn’t be easy, probably won’t be until later on either, but it’s worth it.” He pauses, eyelights still a little fuzzy around the edges. “I missed you so damn much Pap.”

The words make his nonexistent throat tighten. “I missed you too,” Papyrus returns, unsure of what else to say to that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he parrots, badly mimicking the lazy tone.

They stand there, grinning at each other like idiots in the snow for a few seconds before Sans chuckles and waves him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s stop being numbskulls and get our nonexistent asses inside before they freeze.” He opens and holds it, spilling inviting warm light and conversation out onto the cold porch.

The snowflakes caught between him and the bright hallway swirl and dance in the winter wind, catching him off guard by the familiarity of it all and filling him with a calm he needs. It allows him to move and accept that things are about to change.

Papyrus shoots his brother a questioning look as he passes Sans at the threshold. “‘Uncle’, hm?”

He closes the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays!


End file.
